


Counting Down From Infinity

by isabeau



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Kinda old fic (pre-2005), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau/pseuds/isabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco pays a visit to Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Down From Infinity

The infirmary is silent when I get there. Even Potter's friends have gone  
home, exhausted by the waiting and the worrying. I'm quite sure that they  
will come running at the slightest hint of an owl, but for now, I am alone.

\--not alone. Not quite.

"What do you want?" Madame Pomfrey's voice is hard, her expression  
harder. It's no secret that the curse came from a Slytherin graduate, and  
the ill feeling has extended to current Slytherins as well. Not that I  
care. It's fun watching their faces, watching them be afraid of us. Of me.

I smile at Madame Pomfrey, and there is a sliver of fear in her eyes. Not  
much, but it's there. "I want to see him."

"No visitors."

I look at her, wide-eyed and injured. "I know we haven't been friends,  
but everyone's gone home, and I thought he'd like some company."

She's still suspicious, but she's also on the verge of relenting, and I  
want to laugh, because she's far too naive. All the teachers here are,  
except Snape and Dumbledore-- and Snape likes us Slytherins anyway.

"Fine. But you'll have to give me your wand." So that I don't finish

Potter off, no doubt; though really, if I'd wanted to take him out, it  
would have been easy to do, a simple whispered *avada kedavra* from the far  
side of a room. No tricks, no suspicions, no risks of getting caught.

I think there is some strange look in my eyes as I hand over the wand,  
because Madame Pomfrey hesitates a moment before taking it and showing me in.

Potter is lying in one of the beds, white and still. It is some sort of  
suspended animation; he is alive, but not breathing, and his heart is not  
beating. Last I heard, the professors had absolutely no clue what it was,  
or how to cure it. They were looking for a cure...

I wasn't helping them. None of the Slytherins were.

Madame Pomfrey doesn't seem willing to leave me alone. (What, am I going  
to snap his neck? or shove poison down his throat?) So instead of talking  
to Potter, I simply stare at him.

Stare, and wonder what it was like, trapped there, unable to move, unable  
to breathe, unable to scream.

Slowly, deliberately, I bend over until my mouth brushes against his ear.  
"Live, Potter," I whisper, not knowing if he can hear or understand  
me, but knowing that Madame Pomfrey will not. "I'm counting on it."

I mean only to kiss his forehead, a strange unrequested benediction, but  
something in my mind whispers for more. I find myself pressing my lips to  
his. They are cold and unresponsive. Were this a faery tale, he would  
stir and awaken and profess eternal love and gratitude towards me. Funny,  
though: he doesn't.

Madame Pomfrey is looking at me oddly. I smile at her, ever so sweet, and  
take the wand back as I saunter out.  



End file.
